VAMPIRE LOVING
by Sousaphone
Summary: The Criminal Minds team is hunting for a serial killer, but Sam and Dean know better, and so, perhaps, does agent Prentiss.
1. Chapter 1

VAMPIRE LOVING

A criminal minds/supernatural crossover.

M-rated.

Being that I'm at uni I don't get much of a chance to write anymore so I'm only putting up fics once I've written the whole thing. It's short, only 4/5 chapters.

Hope you like it. Please tell me what you think.

reviews are the best views ;)

x

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

. . .

"So what've we got?" Dean asked.

He was behind the wheel of his Impala, Foreigner was booming out of the speakers, and his foot was planted on the accelerator. Outside, the sun was burning bright. Steam floated off the tar they drove on. Dean was thankful he'd fixed the AC.

"Vampire," Sam told him, looking over a local newspaper he'd picked up. "Two dead so far. The most recent was last night. The crime scene should still be fresh."

Dean took the address and planted his foot further to the ground. What better way to spend the week than hunted down a vamp?

.

"Guy was found in his bedroom," Sam explained as they walked down the suburban street to the crime scene. They were dressed in cheap suits and were armed with tape recorders. Journalists, they'd learned, seemed to be able to get away with quite a lot. "Not much information has been given to the press, but we know he was tied up."

"So we're dealing with a kinky son-of-a-bitch," Dean smirked.

"You could say that," Sam commented.

They turned the corner and saw a pack of journalists huddled in front of the yellow tap, chomping at the bit. They reminded Dean of a pack of wild dogs, desperate for just one bite of flesh.

Dean was the first to spot the people in clean suits and slacks. "FBI was called in?"

"Its looks like."

Dean ran his eyes over the house. Good suburban house in a good suburban neighborhood. He spotted the window open on the houses left side. Nodded to it.

Sam caught the drift and soon the two were ducking under the police tape and making a B line straight for their opening. The cop who was meant to be manning the line was too held up with the mob of vicious dogs that were the reporters. Anyway, the brothers had found that if you looked official and acted like you were meant to be there, nobody questioned it.

"You there!"

Or not.

Special Agent David Rossi had worked in the bureau for long enough to recognize agents, sweepers and reporters. The two men who were walking with purpose towards the side of the house hit the mark on the third specification. He nudged his co-worker as to explain himself and headed straight for them.

"Can I help you?" he asked them. His voice was rough and sounded very much like a mafia boss.

"No thank you," Dean smiled.

"We're just making sure nothing was missed on the side," Sam explained. "The murderer might have left something there had he snuck out that window."

Pretty smooth for reporters, Rossi noted. But hey, weren't reporters meant to be smooth.

"What paper you boys work for?"

Dean's smile beamed. "Don't know what you're talking about."

Rossi laughed. This one was a smug bugger. He was just about to answer back when Emily ran up behind him.

"The rest are headed back," she told him. "You and me are staying here and talking to the neighbors."

She looked the boys up and down then focused in on Sam. Something about him was familiar. "Do I know you?"

"I don't think so," Sam commented. He was doing the best to look slightly confused. He'd recognized her as soon as he'd seen her. Emily Prentiss. She'd taken a guest lecture at his school. He'd questioned at the time why lawyers needed to know how to spot serial killers, but it had worked out pretty well in helping him spot demons.

Her dark eyes squinted as she thought. "I got it! Stanford right? I took a lecture there. Your girlfriend came and asked quite a few questions. It starts with an S… Sam? Yeah! Sam."

"You got a good memory there," Dean commented.

"Never forget a face," she smiled. "And Jessica – that was her name right? – she was really interested in that stuff. Haven't talked to her in a while now." Obviously she was oblivious to the fact that Jessica was long gone. "Now, what's a budding lawyer doing at a crime scene half way across the country?"

"I'm a journalist," he explained.

"Gotta pay the rent," Dean sighed.

Rossi titled his head. "Thought you didn't work for a newspaper?"

"We don't," Dean smiled.

One of the agents across the yard called and Rossi excused himself to go see to it.

Dean couldn't help but admire the body of the agent that stood before him. A little older than him, but he liked the experience. He was about to open his mouth with a quirky line that he was sure would have her panties falling right off when she spoke.

"Journalists huh?"

"Yeah," Sam smiled.

"So what are you doing past the line?"

"What line?" Dean smirked.

Emily gave a short laugh. She wasn't getting a reporter vibe off either of the boys and wondered how they'd gotten into it. She also wondered how the hell they'd gotten past the officer on duty. Looking at the shorter man, she decided he'd probably be able to talk his way in or out of anywhere.

"You got a name?" she asked him.

"Dean," he smiled.

"I'm special agent Prentiss," she smiled back. "Now, Sam, Dean, I recommend you get out of my crime scene."

She stood there, hands planted firmly on her slack covered hips, and watched them walk away. Hate to see you go, but love to see you leave. Those boys certainly had two fine asses.

Dean wolf whistled as he climbed into the Impala. Damned if she hadn't made him a little hot.

. . .

That's it! Well, the start of it. Few more chapters to go! They'll be up soon, I promise. Hope you like it.

xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

A criminal minds/supernatural crossover.

M-rated.

Being that I'm at uni I don't get much of a chance to write anymore so I'm only putting up fics once I've written the whole thing. It's short, only 4/5 chapters.

I realized I probably should have mentioned in my first chapter that as of this story I have only watched the first three seasons of Supernatural. So it fits in about there in terms of storyline, though I don't feel it really draws that much on the actually shows storyline. As for criminal minds, Emily's obviously working for the bureau. Sorry!

Hope you like it. Please tell me what you think.

reviews are the best views ;)

x

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

. . .

"It's not like that Dean"

"There's something seriously wrong with you if there ain't."

"She's a fed."

"She's smoking."

"It doesn't make a difference Dean."

Dean just laughed. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. You always were a girl."

Sam's eyes turned to slits. "She's off limits."

"Sure. Keep all the lookers to yourself."

"I'm not keeping her Dean," he sighed. "She's a fed, which means we could be in trouble."

"She could handcuff me any day."

"Dean."

"Fine," Dean relented. "What's the problem anyways? We track the vamp, put him down then we're gone. No problem."

"Problem."

"What?"

"We're wanted fugitives Dean. We don't exactly have a great track record with the FBI. She could arrest you. She could arrest us both."

"Again, I would not mind her arresting me."

"Dean! This isn't funny."

Dean laughed and patted his baby brother on the back. "It'll all be fine. Now, lets go see if we can't catch this son-of-a-bitch."

.

"We'll this is it," Sam declared nonchalantly as they entered the bar.

The dive bar, creatively called 'the dive', lived up, or rather, down to its name. The lighting was crap, the wooden floors splinter invested and the bartender had a grey beard that rivaled Santa's in length and tattoos that hinted to a life well spent on the back of a motorcycle. The air was heavy with smoke.

The two brothers made their way over to the bar and signaled motorcycle man. "Bar keep," dean smiled, earning himself a glare from his brother. The boy needed to lighten up.

The man made his way over, wiping his hands on an already dirty towel.

"I hope that isn't his after bathroom towel" Dean whispered with a laugh. Sam obviously wasn't amused.

The bartender rested his hands on the bar and let it take his weight. He said nothing.

Sam held up two fingers and the man nodded.

He returned with two beers. "That it?"

"Ever game across a man named Bigly?"

Nothing.

Dean yanked out his wallet and placed a fifty on the bar.

"Dean, you can't just bribe people."

"Quiet Sammy, the grown ups are talking."

The old bartender looked at the note, considered then looked back up at Dean. He twitched.

Dean went back to his wallet and pulled out another fifty, placing it on top of its friend.

The barman took the notes and put them in his back pocket. "I might." He used the dirty towel to started wiping down the table. Sam didn't see the point in the act but made no comment. "What's it to you?"

"He's dead," Sam pointed out.

The old guy didn't seem phased. "And?"

"He's dead."

"Sammy," Dean all put growled. "We're friends of his... Brother, just looking for some insight," he explained.

"Didn't know he had a brother."

"Well, he did."

"He was a good kid." Dean tried not to laugh. The fact that the old man thought Bigly, a forty something year old, was a kid, proved his age. "Came in for a drink once or twice a week. Never caused no trouble."

"Who'd he spend time with?"

The bartender's face looked blank.

"Like, on the night of his death, did who'd he speak to?" Sam questioned.

"Was there anyone unusual here?"

The man looked over both the boys and considered for a moment or two. "Yeah."

"Yeah there was somebody unusual here?" Sam asked expectantly.

"Chick," he replied. "Youngen."

Based on his previous statement that Bigly was young, that did little to limit the possibilities.

"What'd she look like?" Dean pressed.

"Brown hair, nice ass."

"Is there anybody here who saw her that might be able to give us more about her?"

"You could talk to Jack," he said, nodding towards two men shooting pool. "Him and Hayden were here that night. Struck out."

Dean nodded, Sam said thanks. The two took their beers with them as they went to make some new friends.

.

The two men didn't offer much more, other than an above average explanation of the maybe vampire's breast size and a few hundred dollars. Dean was admiring the money in his hands as they walked to the car.

"Where to now?" Sam asked.

"Somewhere with a blackjack table."

"Dean."

"Kidding!"

They were just climbing into the Impala when a big black Chevy pulled into the carpark. A few moments later Emily climbed out with a blonde.

"Looks like our girl's following us'" Dean smirked. "And she brought a friend."

"Let's go before they see us."

"Now why would we wanna do that Sammy?"

Nonetheless, Dean started up the car. Maybe if he'd given his baby the tune up she'd been needing the last few days they would have slipped away. The engine roared when he turned the ignition. Both women turned their heads.

"Great Dean. Just great."

"Will you calm down?"

Emily and the blonde started towards them. Seeing no way out, Dean turned his lips into a smile and rolled down the window. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Fancy it'" Emily smiled coolly. She placed a hand on the Impala's roof and leaned down. "Sam."

"Special Agent Prentis," he smiled.

"What can we do for you?" Dean beamed.

"You could start by telling me what you're doing here?"

"Just grabbing a drink with my brother," Dean explained, slapping Sam on the back. Sam didn't look too appreciative, but Dean simply ignored him.

"At the bar where our victims frequented?"

Dean and Sam looked at each other. They'd known Bigly drank there but not Clarkson. It was news to them.

Dean turned back to Emily. "Coincidence?"

Emily laughed, but not in a happy way. "I don't know what you too are doing here, but I would recommend we stop running into each other."

"Now why would you say such a hurtful thing?" Dean asked with a pout. "Personally, I'd like to run into you more often."

This time when Emily laughed it was a little more genuine. "See you boys."

As she walked away Dean whistled to himself. "Oh I'm definitely gonna see her again."

"Dean."

"Can't fight the inevitable Sammy."

.

"You know them?" JJ asked, admiring the way the Impala purred as they pulled out of the parking lot. She made a mental note that they were heading south, back into town.

"Not really."

JJ raised her eyebrows but said nothing. It sure had looked like they knew each other.

. . .

Hope you're liking it so far.

xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

VAMPIRE LOVING

A criminal minds/supernatural crossover.

M-rated.

Being that I'm at uni I don't get much of a chance to write anymore so I'm only putting up fics once I've written the whole thing. It's short, only 4/5 chapters.

Hope you like it. Please tell me what you think.

reviews are the best views ;)

x

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

. . .

"So both Bigly and Clarkson both drunk at that shit hole."

"Looks like it," Sam stated as he flipped through the books on vampire law that covered the old desk in their motel room. The room was only a small step up from the bar.

"You think it's our hunting ground."

Sam murmured agreement and continued reading.

"What are you looking at?" Dean asked from his position on the bed.

"I'm researching."

"What's there to research? We shoot the bitch with the colt, save the day, then I can find me my very special agent and have a very special night."

Sam resisted the urge to throw one of his books. "I thought I saw something..."

"_I_ saw something," Dean smirked. "She really does have an excellent ass, don't she."

This time Sam couldn't resist and the book went flying. Dean was just lucky enough to be able to hit it away before it left a dent in his forehead. "You're just jealous of our love," he laughed.

"Yeah, jealous."

"Don't got to deny it Sammy."

Sam shut his book in a sigh. "Let's just go get this vampire."

.

Emily woke at twelve, thankful both for the fact they'd all gone to bed at ten and that her mental alarm clock was still finely tuned. Tiptoeing, as to not wake JJ sleeping in the adjoining room, she pulled on her jeans and her favorite top. It was nothing flashy, just a three-quartered sleeved cotton tee, but its low V-neck showed off her cleavage that, she had to admit, was looking rather fantastic now that she was spending more time eating donuts than going for jogs. She pulled up the shirt to look at her belly. The donuts may have been doing wonders for her boobs, but any more and she'd be fighting with love handles. It was a fine line.

Ten minutes later she was climbing out of the mass that was one if the FBI standard Chevy trucks and making her way into the Dive.

She hadn't been able to risk bringing back up, not with the chance she'd run into a vamp. She smirked at the idea of trying to explain vampires to her team. It was not a scenario she ever wanted to act out. She had her gun (not that it would help if she did run into a vampire) tucked into the back of her jeans, and a syringe of dead man's blood strapped to her ankle. That was another thing she hoped she'd never have to explain to her team.

Like in all the movies, multiple eyes flicked her way as she stepped into the dump. She nodded to a man she remembered from her visit that afternoon then headed to the bar.

"Can I buy you a drink darling?"

Emily turned to the middle aged man with a beer gut and tried not to cringe. Never in a million years sweetheart, she said to herself. Despite her disgust at the man's look, and smell, she smiled. "I'm good."

"That you certainly are."

She rolled her eyes at the bartender as he made her way towards him and she swore she saw the old guy smile. "Back off Charlie."

Charlie backed off.

"What can I get ya?"

"Whiskey."

She sat there nursing her drink for at least half an hour, surveilling the room but finding nothing strange, before a women walked in wearing a tight red dress that covered little. That was her. Emily supposed it was prejudiced of her to just assume the sexy woman was the vampire, but in her lifetime she'd yet to run into a vampire who was an old redneck.

The woman met her eyes and Emily smiled. Game time.

.

When Sam and Dean got to the bar they saw nothing out of the ordinary, just a bunch of rednecks drink beers, playing pool and arguing, over the sound of Irish folk songs playing through the old sound system. They headed straight to the bar and were given a beer each before they even signaled for it.

"Thanks," Dean murmured. He turned to Sam. "Anybody look like a vamp to you?"

"We'll nobody has fangs hanging out."

"Your girl was in here."

Dean turned on his barstool and squinted at the barman. "My girl?"

"Nice ass," he explained.

Dean smiled at Sam. Got her.

"Where'd she go?"

"Left with some chick." Helpful.

"This chick," Sam asked, "she got dark hair, French look about her?"

"Don't know nothing bout her being a frog, but she was in here earlier, asking questions like you. Cop or something."

"Where'd they go?"

The bartender shrugged and went back to what he was doing.

"You ever get a hunter vibe off her?" Dean asked.

Sam thought about it. "Nah."

Dean placed a twenty down on the bar. "When did you last see them?"

"Bout ten minutes ago."

Out in the car park the Chevy truck sat in a dark corner. Sam and Dean strutted over. No signs that she'd come back to the truck.

"If she left, she didn't leave in this."

"So where the hell is she?" Sam asked.

. . .

xoxo


End file.
